


tissue

by marginaliana



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: Even Tanner could sometimes use a sick day. Too bad he rarely gets one.
Relationships: Q & Bill Tanner
Kudos: 33





	tissue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misbegotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/gifts).



They all knew what Tanner was supposed to be like. Invisible. Invincible. Not in the way of Bond, who kept being poisoned and shot and generally-made-dead and then kept getting up again. But in the way of a presence that was always… present. Like a chair that appeared whenever one sat down. (Sometimes, in the case of Mallory, this was literal.)

When he wasn’t there, or wasn’t at peak efficiency, they noticed, but abstractly. Looking around for a place to set their papers when a hand wasn’t held out automatically to take them. Cranky at the lack of tea but never thinking to make their own. Twitching at the sound of a filing cabinet drawer rolling shut a fraction of a second too late, or not shutting at all.

Tanner was used to it; this was, after all, his job. He was proud of his work. But nonetheless there were times when he was very, _very_ tempted to steal Moneypenny's favorite pen and shove it violently up the arse of whoever was closest.

"Wrong file," Mallory muttered, shoving the papers back at him. "Really, Tanner."

Tanner took the folders, glanced at them, and moved the top one to the bottom before handing it over again. He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to ignore how they stung in the fluorescent office lights. There was a tissue in his jacket pocket but he didn't want to use it lest he receive a full set of knife-edged glares all around. 

Bond was talking volubly now, which was arguably worse than Mallory being an arse, simply because Bond exuded 'arse' even before he opened his mouth. Tanner glanced around the room and caught Q's gaze – he was rolling his eyes – then stifled a weary grin before he forced himself to look away and back to Mallory.

A moment later, though, Q reached across the table and snagged one of the ever-present notepads. Tanner registered a flickering moment of surprise – it was analog, after all – but he couldn't hold onto it when his brain was busy trying to keep himself from leaning too obviously against the wall. He watched stupidly as Q stole Monepenny's pen and scrawled something across the top sheet, then tore it off and beckoned him. "Need something from my desk," he said, just loudly enough to be heard. "Can you?"

Tanner sighed but took the paper and slipped out of the room. He made his way slowly down to the Boffin Zone (as it was generally known) and let himself into Q's office with a press of his thumb. Once inside, he looked down at the sheet of paper and nearly stumbled in surprise.

'Top drawer,' it said. 'Blue bag – cough drops, eyedrops, etc. There's a thumb drive underneath which I'll pretend is important. Take your time coming back because fuck knows what having to listen to Bond talk will do to you.'

Tanner snorted out a laugh, which meant he snorted out some other things as well, but there was a box of tissues on top of the desk and he fumbled one free to wipe his nose. Maybe he'd make Q a nice cup of coffee on the way back. 

He looked down at the tissue. Well. Maybe Q would prefer that he didn't.


End file.
